Stepping out of the friend zone…!
Leo Zaccharelli is a gorgeous TV chef, but to Amy Driver he’s just her best friend. Yet when he saves her from a disastrous near miss down the aisle, Amy escapes to Tuscany with Leo and his adorable baby daughter, Ella. Spending time with this beautiful little family, which suffered so much tragedy after Leo’s wife’s death, opens Amy’s eyes to the joys of being a mother...and a wife!
Now she’s seen Leo in a whole new light, can their friendship lead to forever…?
She watched Leo’s face light up as he reached for the baby, and felt a pang of envy. What would it be like, to have a little person so very pleased to see you?
Wonderful. Amazing.
He slid his sunglasses up onto his head and held his arms out, and she could see the wonder in his eyes.
“She’s wet,” Amy warned him, but he just shrugged.
“I don’t care. I need a shower anyway. Come here, mia bellissima bambina,” Leo said, reaching for the baby, but his fingers brushed Amy’s breast and she sucked in her breath. It was barely audible, but he heard it, and their eyes clashed and held, his darkening to midnight.
For a moment they both froze. She couldn’t breathe, the air jammed solid in her lungs, and then with a muttered apology he lifted Ella out of her arms and turned away, laughing and kissing her all over her face, making her giggle deliciously and freeing Amy from his spell.
After a second of paralysing immobility, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it firmly round herself, then gathered up their things and headed for the steps, Leo falling in beside her at the top. They walked back together to their apartment, Ella perched on his shoulders with her little fists knotted in his hair, while he told her a little about his day and they both pretended that the moment by the pool hadn’t happened.
Dear Reader,
I have many weaknesses. I adore weddings, I’ve always been a sucker for Italian heroes and I’m addicted to celebrity chefs, so this book gave me a chance to indulge three of my favourite weaknesses. It needed more than that, though, and so I delved into their inner psychies and came up with best friends Leo and Amy, which made it four, and then I threw a baby into the mix. So that’s five. With a star cast like that, what could possibly go wrong?
Everything. And getting them through it and out the other side was as tough as it’s ever been for me. They got there in the end, and so did I, and I just hope I’ve done us all justice. They truly deserved their happy-ever-after, and I give them to you with my love.
BEST FRIEND TO WIFE AND MOTHER?
Caroline Anderson
Caroline Anderson has the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary and a teacher, ran her own soft-furnishing business, and now she’s settled on writing. She says, “I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realized it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband, John, and I have two beautiful and talented daughters, Sarah and Hannah, umpteen pets and several acres of Suffolk that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!” Caroline also writes for the Harlequin Medical Romance series.
Books by Caroline Anderson
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE
Snowed in with the Billionaire
The Valtieri Baby
Valtieri’s Bride
The Baby Swap Miracle
Mother of the Bride
HARLEQUIN MEDICAL ROMANCE
The Secret in His Heart
From Christmas to Eternity
The Surgeon’s Miracle
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles
Huge thanks to Caroline and Adam, and Bryony and Owen, who inadvertently gave me wonderful wedding inspiration, and to Shirley and Roger, Mike and Trice, who invited us to share those days with them. I love you all.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
‘ARE YOU READY?’
He eased a flyaway strand of hair from the corner of her eye, his touch as light as a butterfly’s wing, his fingertips lingering for a moment as their eyes met and held. His voice, as familiar to her as her own, was steady and reassuring, but his words didn’t reassure her. They sent her mind into free-fall.
They were such simple words, on the surface, but layered beneath were a million unasked and unanswered questions. Questions Leo probably didn’t even know he’d asked her. Questions she’d needed to ask herself for months but somehow hadn’t got round to.
Was she ready?
For the wedding, yes. The planning had been meticulous, nothing left to chance. Her mother, quietly and efficiently, had seen to that. But the marriage—the lifetime—with Nick?
Mingling with the birdsong and the voices of the people clustered outside the church gates were the familiar strains of the organ music.
The overture for her wedding.
No. Her marriage. Subtle difference, but hugely significant.
Amy glanced through the doorway of the church and caught the smiles on the row of faces in the back pew, all of them craning their necks to get a better look at her. The villagers at the gate were mostly there for Leo, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourite son, but these people in the church—her friends, Nick’s—were here to see her marry Nick.
Today.
Right now.
Her heart skittered under the fitted bodice that suddenly seemed so tight she could hardly breathe.
I can’t do this—!
No choice. Too late now for cold feet. If she’d been going to change her mind she should have done it ages ago, before the wheels of this massive train that was her wedding had been set in motion. Or later, at a push—but not now, so late it was about to hit the buffers.
The church was full, the food cooked, the champagne on ice. And Nick would be standing at the altar, waiting for her.
Dear, kind, lovely Nick, who’d been there for her when her life had been in chaos, who’d just—been there, for the last three years, her friend and companion and cheerleader. Her lover. And she did love him. She did...
Enough to marry him? Till death us do part, and all that? Or is it just the easiest thing to do?
You can stop this, the voice whispered in her head. It’s not too late.
But it was. Way too late. She was marrying Nick.
Today.
A curious calm settled over her, as if a switch had been flicked, turning on the autopilot, steadying her fall into oblivion. The voice in her head didn’t care.
Just because it’s easy, because you know he’ll be a good husband and father and he’s safe? Is that enough?
Of course it was enough. It was just nerves unsettling her. That was all. Last-minute nerves. Nick was—fine.
Fine? Like safe, steady, reliable, predictable—that kind of fine? No chemistry, no fireworks? And whatever happened to amazing?
She tuned the voice out. There were more important things than amazing. Trust, fidelity, respect—and chemistry was overrated—
How do you know that? You
don’t know that. You haven’t got a clue, you’ve never felt it. And if you marry Nick, you never will...
She stifled the voice again, stuffing it firmly back in its box; then, easing her death grip on the bouquet, she straightened her shoulders, tilted up her chin and gave Leo her most convincing and dazzling smile.
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m ready.’
* * *
Leo felt his breath catch at that smile.
When had she grown up? Turned into this stunningly lovely woman, instead of the slightly chubby, relentlessly accident-prone girl who’d dogged his footsteps for ever? He’d turned his back for what felt like five minutes, and she’d been transformed.
More like five years, though, give or take, and a lot of water under the bridge for both of them. Far too much, in his case, and so much of it tainted by regret.
He cradled her pale cheek in his hand, and felt her quiver. She was nervous. Of course she was. Who wouldn’t be, on their wedding day? It was a hell of a commitment. Literally, in his case.
‘You look beautiful, Amy,’ he said gruffly, looking down into the wide grey eyes of this lovely young woman he’d known so well but now hardly knew at all. ‘He’s a lucky man.’
‘Thank you.’
Her eyes searched his, a flicker of uncertainty in them echoing the tiny tremor in her cheek, the smile on her lush, pink lips a little hesitant now, and he felt himself frown.
Second thoughts? About time. There was nothing wrong with the man she was marrying, from what little he’d seen of him—in fact, he’d liked him, a lot—but they just didn’t seem right for each other.
There was no chemistry between them, no zing that he could see. Maybe she didn’t want that? Maybe she just wanted safe and comfortable? And maybe that was a really, really good idea.
Or maybe not, not for Amy...
He hesitated another second, then took her hand in his, his thumb slowly stroking the back of it in a subconscious gesture of comfort. Her fingers were cold, trembling slightly in his, reinforcing his concern. He squeezed them gently.
‘Amy, I’m going to ask you something. It’s only what your father would have done, so please don’t take it the wrong way, but—are you sure you want to do this? Because if not, you can still turn around and walk away. It’s your life, no one else’s, and nobody else can decide this for you.’
His voice dropped, his frown deepening as he struggled to get the importance of this across to her before it was too late. If only someone had done this for him...
‘Don’t do it unless it’s right, Amy, unless you really, truly love him. Take it from me, marrying the wrong person for the wrong reasons is a recipe for disaster. You have to be absolutely, completely and utterly sure that it’s the right thing to do and for the right reasons.’
A shadow flitted across her eyes, her fingers tightening on his, and after an infinitesimal pause that seemed to last an eternity, she nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, of course I’m sure.’
But she didn’t look sure, and he certainly wasn’t, but it was nothing to do with him, was it? Not his decision to make. And the shadows in her eyes could just as easily be sadness because her much-loved father wasn’t here to give her away. Nothing to do with her choice of groom...
Not your business who she chooses to love. God knows, you’re no expert. And he could be a lot, lot worse.
He hauled in a breath.
‘OK. Ready to go, then?’
She nodded, but he saw her swallow again, and for a moment he wondered if she’d changed her mind.
And then she straightened up and took a breath, hooked her hand through his arm and flashed a smile over her shoulder at her bridesmaids. ‘OK, girls? Good to go?’
They both nodded, and he felt her hand tighten on his arm.
‘OK, then. Let’s do this.’ Her eyes flicked up and met Leo’s, her fake smile pinned in place by sheer determination, but it didn’t waver and anybody else might have been convinced.
Not your business. He nodded to the usher, who nodded to the organist, and after a moment’s silence, broken only by the shuffling of the congregation getting to their feet and the clearing of a few throats, the evocative strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major filled the church.
He laid his hand over hers, squeezed her fingers and felt them grip his. He glanced down, into those liquid grey eyes that seemed flooded with doubt despite the brave smile, and his gut clenched.
He’d known her for ever, rescued her from a million scrapes, both literal and otherwise; dammit, she was his best friend, or had been before the craziness that was his life had got in the way, and he couldn’t bear to see her make the mistake of her life.
Don’t do it, Amy. Please, don’t do it!
‘It’s still not too late,’ he said gruffly, his voice muted, his head tilted towards her so only she could hear.
‘Yes, it is,’ she said, so softly he barely heard her, then she dredged up that expected smile again and took the first step forward.
Damn.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly, steadily, walked her down the aisle.
* * *
With every step, her legs felt heavier and more reluctant, her heart pounding, the sense of unease settling closer around her, chilling her to the bone.
What are you doing?
Nick was there, watching her thoughtfully. Warily?
It’s still not too late.
She felt Leo ease his arm out from under her hand and step away, and she felt—abandoned?
It was her wedding day. She should feel a sense of joy, of completeness, of utter, bone-deep rightness—but she didn’t.
Not at all.
And, as she glanced up at Nick, she realised that neither did he. Either that, or he was paralysed by nerves, which was unlikely. He wasn’t remotely the nervous type.
He took her hand briefly, squeezed it in reassurance, but it felt wrong. So wrong...
She eased it away, using the excuse of handing her bouquet to the waiting bridesmaid, and then the vicar spoke, everyone started to sing ‘Jerusalem’, and she felt her mouth move automatically while her mind whirled. Her mind, this time, not the voice in her head giving her grief, or a moment of panic, stage fright, last-minute nerves or whatever. This time it was really her, finally asking all the questions Leo’s ‘Are you ready?’ had prompted.
What are we doing? And why? Who for?
The last echoes of the hymn filtered away, and the vicar did the just cause or impediment bit. Was there a just cause? Was not loving him enough sufficient? And then she saw the vicar’s lips move as he began to speak the words of the marriage service, drowned out by her thudding heart and the whirlwind in her head.
Until he said, ‘Who gives this woman to be married to this man?’ and Leo stepped forward, took her hand with a tiny, barely perceptible squeeze, and gave it—gave her—to Nick.
Dear Nick. Lovely, kind, dependable Nick, ready to make her his wife, give her the babies they both longed for, grow old with her...
But Nick hesitated. When the vicar asked if he would take this woman to be his wife, he hesitated. And then—was that a shrug?—his mouth twisted in a wry smile and he said, ‘I will.’
The vicar turned, spoke to her, but she wasn’t really listening any more. She was staring into Nick’s eyes, searching them for the truth, and all she could see was duty.
Duty from him, and duty from her? Because they’d come this far before either of them had realised it was bound to be—what were Leo’s words?—a disaster?
She gripped his hands. ‘Will you? Will you really?’ she asked under her breath. ‘Because I’m not sure I can.’
Behind her she heard the slight suck of Leo’s indrawn breath, the rustle from the congregation, the whispered undertone of someone asking what she’
d said.
And then Nick smiled—the first time he’d really smiled at her in weeks, she realised—and put his arms around her, and hugged her against his broad, solid chest. It shook with what could have been a huff of laughter, and he squeezed her tight.
His breath brushed her cheek, his words soft in her ear. ‘You cut that a bit fine, my love.’
She felt the tension flow out of her like air out of a punctured balloon, and if he hadn’t been holding her she would have crumpled.
‘I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Nick, but I just can’t do this,’ she murmured.
‘I know; it doesn’t feel right, does it? I thought it would, but...it just doesn’t. And better now than later.’ She felt his arms slacken as he raised his head and looked over her shoulder.
‘Time to go, sweetheart,’ he murmured, his mouth tugging into a wistful smile. ‘Leo’s waiting for you. He’ll make sure you’re all right.’ He kissed her gently on the cheek and stepped back, his smile a little unsteady now. ‘Be happy, Amy.’
She searched his eyes, and saw regret and relief, and her eyes welled with tears. ‘You, too,’ she said silently, and took a step back, then another one, and collided with Leo’s solid warmth.
His hands cupped her elbows, supporting her as everything slowly righted itself. She turned to him, met those steady golden eyes and whispered, ‘Thank you.’
And then she picked up her skirts and ran.
* * *
She’d done it. She’d actually done it. Walked—no, sprinted, or as close to it as she could in those ridiculous shoes—away from disaster.
Leo watched her go, her mother and bridesmaids hurrying after her, watched Nick turn to his best man and sit down on the pew behind him as if his strings had been cut, and realised it was all down to him. Appropriate, really, since in a way he was the cause of it.
He hauled in a deep breath, turned to the stunned congregation and gave them his best media smile.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, it seems there isn’t going to be a wedding today after all. I’m not sure of the protocol for this kind of thing, but there’s food ready and waiting for you in the marquee, and any of you who’d like to come back and enjoy it will be more than welcome to do so before you head off. I gather the chef comes highly recommended,’ he added drily, and there was a ripple of laughter that broke the tension.
Best Friend to Wife and Mother? Page 1
